


Heirloom

by Madam_Chauncey



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Family Feels, Fluff and Smut, Homecoming, Introspection, Self Confidence Issues, sorta proposal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 13:48:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15842553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madam_Chauncey/pseuds/Madam_Chauncey
Summary: Morrigan squared her jaw, unsure what to say. Her partner sat there, half naked, holding the ring out with an unreadable but relaxed expression on his face.Her promise to consider marriage comes back to haunt her when she and Darrian bring Kieran to the Warden’s alienage to introduce him to the Tabris clan.





	Heirloom

Morrigan began to disrobe. She shivered as the cool air of the washroom rushed against her newly naked body. Once her garments were pooled around her ankles, she stepped out of them and dipped a foot into the bath.

She was currently in Denerim’s royal castle visiting the simpleton—or King Simpleton as he was called now. Or rather, Alistair had gotten wind that they were in the city and extended an invitation to lodge in the castle while he and Darrian caught up.

Of course, Morrigan had no interest in meeting with the former Grey Warden for idle chat, so she instead had the steward escort her to their quarters and draw a warm bath for her—one of the few amenities of the royal palace she actually enjoyed.

The warmth of the water instantly made gooseflesh erupt all over Morrigan’s skin.

She slid the rest of the way into the tub, slick porcelain felt good against her skin as did the water. The level rose until it was just under her ribcage from her weight, and she rested her arms on the rim, letting her head loll back in an effort to relax.

Her very bones almost seemed to become lax, and she retreated into the warmth of the water, sighing contentedly.

Morrigan wasn’t exactly how sure she had been basking in the bath. I could have been ten minutes—it could have been an hour.

Eventually she heard two raps and the door before it slowly opened. Of course, she couldn’t see who it was from where she was in the washroom. She craned her neck in the direction of the voice, but saw nothing.

“Vhenan, are you in here?” a familiar masculine voice called.

Morrigan made no reply, only settled back down into the water, closing her eyes.

Boots on the stone floor told her that her “mysterious visitor” had entered the washroom.

“There you are.”

It was Darrian, of course. The Hero of Ferelden perched himself on the lip of the tub, leaning toward her. He kissed her temple.

“I’m sorry that took me so long. I know this was supposed to be our day, but as you can imagine, we had a lot to speak about.”

Morrigan remained leaned back and relaxed. “What could you have possibly discussed that held Alistair’s attention span for so long? Cheeses?

Of course, she wasn’t truly angry, just mildly annoyed, but she had to make him believe he had something to make up for. Whether he realized this or not, she couldn’t be sure, but he always played along with their lover’s cat and mouse game regardless.

He dipped a finger into her warm bath, chuckling. “Not quite, but I’m sure he would have liked that. We talked about you and Kieran mostly.”

“Oh?”

“Mhmm. About how happy I am, how you’re the most beautiful, perfect woman in the world, how you and Kieran are the best things that have ever happened to me… Typical things.”

Morrigan rolled her eyes. “It’s a wonder your feet are still upon the ground with all that hot air you seem to be full of.”

Darrian laughed, warm and genuine, and the sound settled comfortable and airy inside of her chest.

"So, have you enjoyed your relaxing bath?"

Morrigan lifted her slender leg into the air. The water ran down in rivulets and the cold air hitting her wet skin made her shiver. Darrian had stopped laughing, and instead looked at her, saying nothing, jaw set, not moving an inch.

Morrigan knew that look full well.

“Tis nice, I will admit. It is missing one thing, however,” she began, wet hand rising from the water to trail up his thigh.

He looked at her expectantly. “What’s that?”

“A handsome, naked elf in here with me.”

The brunette grinned good naturedly; not quite the lustful response she had been expecting.

“I should think he would be naked. Surely this elf wouldn’t get in the bath with his clothes on.”

Morrigan huffed, but there was definite humor there as she nudged him off his seat with her foot. He scrabbled for a second after the shove, but ended up standing on his own two feet.

“Perhaps I was too vague. Take off your clothes and get in here with me, or so help me, Darrian, you’ll have to sleep with Alistair tonight.”

The Warden-Commander needed no further instruction. The rogue immediately shucked his shirt and set upon his belt, unfastening it as he attempted to yank his snug leathers down his narrow hips.

Soon the Hero of Ferelden stood in front of her, naked as the day he was born, but only for a moment. He braced himself on either end of the bath, lowering himself into the still warm water on the opposite end of her. The level rose under their combined weight.

Darrian sighed at the relaxing bath, tangling his legs with hers. He cupped his hands, gathering water and splashing his face, carding his hand back through his wavy locks to push back the rebel strands that had gotten in his eyes.

Morrigan watched him, smiling a little as he reclined back.

“Maker, that feels good.” His voice took on a deep, buttery lilt, not unlike his voice during their more… intimate activities.

Her enterprising foot found his thigh, and she saw his expression immediately change as her toe brushed his length. His whole body jerked, so she expected him to understand her meaning, instead, he apparently thought the move was an accidental one.

The Warden’s breath caught. “Morrigan, watch where—”

The witch clicked her tongue, with a sigh to feign disappointment. “You never could handle a little teasing, You would have gotten far more out of that if you were better at reading into things. Injuring that particular part of you is not in my best interest.”

He leaned forward, understanding her intention finally and desiring contact, but her foot gently met his chest and pushed him back to his side of the bath. Darrian protested, pushing back forward, but she pressed him back once more.

Of course, had he wanted to, she knew fully well he could have overpowered her tiny frame very easily, but he didn’t.

She grinned mischievously at him, knowing he was giving consent to whatever game she had planned.

She reached towards a landing made into the porcelain, retrieving a wash cloth and soap that had been laid there for them. The witch lathered the soap into the cloth and began to slowly wash her chest.

Her free hand pushed the lather around her now soapy body, making sure to make steady eye contact with her man. She purposely paid special attention to her breasts, slowly washing them, making a point to take them in hand

Darrian leaned forward, swallowing hard in an effort to wet his suddenly dry mouth. Her foot upon his belly under the water prevented him from going too far, however.

Morrigan pretended not to notice, and continued to wash her neck, her shoulders. She eventually found her hand upon her chest again, fingers brushing her nipples, which had become hard from the temperature and her attentions.

Then the cloth and her hand disappeared beneath the water as she washed between her legs. Her free hand was once again caressing her skin where the cloth had touched her, but Morrigan couldn’t have anticipated how truly good the touch would feel.

Between the traveling and Kieran, they hadn’t had the opportunity to be together like this in two weeks, so the stimulation felt monumental.

She involuntarily sighed, which turned into a moan, and her hips bucked slightly into the touch.

Darrian’s low groan was almost inaudible. He was watching her actions beneath the water with a smoldering gaze.

“Damn it, Mori. I need to touch you.” He rasped.

She grinned, taking the cloth which had been washing her sex and draped it across his shoulder. “I think I need a bit of help washing my back. Do you think you are able to be a gentleman and help me?”

Darrian huffed. “A gentleman?”

Morrigan offered no further explanation, only turned around and moved backwards toward him until her back was flush with his chest. Darrian leaned against her and she felt the soft, soapy cloth glide across her back and shoulder blades.

The rogue’s lips kissed a path from her ear, down her neck and to her collarbone while he continued to wash her.

“Careful, Warden.” She warned, “I said gentleman. I waited for you, now you must wait for me. Tis only fair. If I sense you are taking liberties, then I shall leave you frustrated and untouched for the rest of the evening.”

Darrian only nipped lightly and sucked on the flesh of her neck where it met her collar. “Mmm. I just want a few kisses.”

Morrigan sighed, baring her neck to him, leaning back into his body despite herself. Proof of his interest was his persistent, burgeoning arousal pressed against her backside.

“Not just yet,”

He rested his head upon her shoulder, and the hand that had been washing her body stops. The back of his knuckles caressed her thin arms before she caught his hand, pressing it to her lips.

“I never grow tired of having my eager elf so ready for me,” the witch told him, wriggling against him.

His throat caught at the feeling of her slick body against his.

“You’ve always seemed fixated on my race. ‘Elf’ this and that,” came his lighthearted murmur against her skin, “Do you have some sort of elf fetish?”

Morrigan suddenly broke away from his embrace, the water in the bath sloshing about onto the stone floor. The witch turned to face him, climbing onto his lap. The cloth and soap fell from his hands and into the water, forgotten.

“Perhaps. I am fascinated by your people’s culture, their history…” Her fingers pressed into his hard chest, gently trailing down from sternum to navel. “Their men…”

She enjoyed feeling Darrian’s whole body shudder under her hands. She idly spread the water all over his chest and abdomen, making them glisten. She stopped when she broke the water’s surface in the bath, finding his lower belly.

“Ideally,” she continued, “The fantasy usually involves sharing my bed with a nice, eager, _Dalish_ , but I am not picky.”

Darrian’s hands found her hips and played along as baited him. “Truly? Are you satisfied, then? No regrets on never landing a man of “The People”?”

Morrigan reached under the water between them where his half hard member laid between his legs and pressed it against her sex, rolling her hips slowly.

She meant to coax him further to arousal, but the feel of his warm, wet body so close to her own was stoking a veracious want in her.

The witch had said her ultimate fantasies included bedding a Dalish man, which was obviously said to tease and inspire playful jealousy, but perhaps it had been true at one time in her life—not so much now.

Darrian proved to be more than she bargained for when he came into the picture. He was strong, almost foolishly kind, and in bed he had been eager to please even from the very beginning, which made up for his lack of experience.

 “Am I satisfied?” she parroted his question, “I suppose the city elf I managed has been a competent enough lover.”

She stopped her hips’ movement—saying what she needed to say next was better left undistracted by sex.

“—As well as a good partner; a better parent to Kieran than I could ever hope to be. I am… happy, in ways I never thought I could be.”

She felt her cheeks heat up at her own admission. Morrigan found it easier to say these things when she spoke of Darrian as if she were merely an observer to the situation. Maybe someday she could manage being up front about her deep need for the man beneath her, but not today.

The elf’s gaze turned stern, and he leaned in to kiss her ear. “Enough. I’ve told you to stop belittling yourself as a mother. Kieran adores you, I adore you… The only opinion that should matter to you is mine.”

Morrigan pulled away after he parroted her earlier sentiment, hands braced against his chest. “Take me to bed, Warden. Now.”

Darrian smiled, patting her leg. “I’ll be right behind you. Let me wash quickly, Heart. After your in-depth tour of the city earlier, I don’t wish to smell like the back allies of Denerim when we make love.”

Agreeing with his logic, the witch disentangled herself from him, rising from the bath. Darrian wordlessly took the opportunity to admire her in her naked beauty. Her slender form held the water’s sheen and her normally pale ivory skin was tinted pink—whether it was from the warm temperature of the bath or their _activities_ , he couldn’t say.

“Have it your way, then. But do not keep me waiting.” She retrieved one of the drying towels the steward left for them and began to pat herself dry, crossing the washroom’s threshold into the main chamber.

The large four poster bed awaited her there, and she left the towel on the floor as she laid down on the soft linens, staring at the washroom where she could her the splashing of water as Darrian finished up.

He had been in good spirits all day—caring and attentive as usual, albeit a bit wistful at times. When they weren’t in immediate conversation while site seeing in Denerim, she would ask of some facet of large city life and find him staring off into the distance, not paying attention.

Of course, he’d immediately snap to attention and answer her query, but it was still out of character for him.

Perhaps he was concerned for Kieran—that thought had crossed her mind a time or two, but she thought it unlikely. He was the one who had wanted to stay in Denerim for a time so their son could get acquainted with his family, and was the first of the pair of them to give their approval when Cyrion volunteered to keep the boy overnight so that they could have a much needed break to focus on each other.

Morrigan had been apprehensive, to put it lightly. But Cyrion was clearly besotted with his first and only grandson from his only child—once he got over the shock of discovering the boy existed.

She knew she couldn’t deny Kieran the opportunity to have a family in the way she never did, so she acquiesced.

Surprisingly, Cyrion had also welcomed her—the three of them stayed that first night in Darrian’s family home. Whether or not he knew she was an apostate, she couldn’t say. She knew Kieran’s grandfather was a pious man. If he suspected anything or simply overlooked it for Darrian and Kieran’s sakes, he gave no indication on either front.

Her thoughts were broken by the elf emerging from the wash chamber, a drying cloth knotted around his waist, carrying his trousers.

Morrigan cocked an eyebrow at that amusedly—surely he wasn’t planning on redressing?

“Why bother with the modesty?” she laughed a little as he approached. “You are a most curious man.”

“My virtue is very important to me,” he joked, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Besides that, I wanted to talk for a moment, and I’d feel a lot more confident not stark naked.”

“Your nakedness might hold my attention better. You know I am not a fan of long-winded talks.”

Darrian chuckled as he began rummaging through the pouch belted to his trousers. Apparently finding what he needed, he cast them away, clutching what must have been a very small object in his balled fist.

“I have something for you,” he explained, keeping his head focused on his feet. “I guess it could have waited, but…”

He finally raised his head to look upon her before he continued. “I don’t want to be accused of postponing making you upset to ensure I still get sex before I’m banished to room with Alistair and Anora for the night.”

Morrigan raised a brow. “This seems rather serious. I am tempted to ask if you slept with that handmaiden who looked at you like you were the first man she had ever laid eyes upon when we arrived.”

Darrian shook his head, smiling a little. “I feel like you would have known somehow if I’d managed that, and I’d be currently begging for forgiveness and perhaps my life.”

“T’would be likely.”

The Hero of Ferelden then opened his palm and picked up the piece with his other hand, holding it between his thumb and index finger.

It was still daylight outside, and some streamed through the windows. The object caught light as he showed it to her, a small sparkle in his hand

It was a ring.

Morrigan’s mouth became dry. Of course. How had she forgotten? She knew he wanted them to be married, and she even remembered promising to consider the possibility if they ever returned to Denerim for family introductions to Kieran. Until this very moment, she had forgotten that conversation from when their son was but an infant.

Morrigan squared her jaw, unsure what to say. Her partner sat there, half naked, holding the ring out with an unreadable but relaxed expression on his face.

They both knew she believed marriage to be a pointless exercise insisted on by the Chantry. Of course, she also promised to think on it, and she always prided herself on keeping her promises.

He spoke first, mirth tinging his tone. “Don’t look so grave, Darling. I promise you this isn’t the kiss of death question you’ve been dreading.

Morrigan narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth as if to protest but was unsure what to say. She wanted to chastise his dramatics but couldn’t fully deny his statement.

Darrian waited a few moments in case she did have something to say. She didn’t.

“This was my mother’s ring,” He continued “my father gave to her on their wedding day. It’s been passed down among the women in my family for a long time. Had I a sister it would have been hers, but since I’m the only Tabris child, my father has long wanted me to give it to the woman I would marry.”

“That is quite presumptuous—” she began.

“—I’m not proposing.” Darrian interrupted softly. “Well, not strictly. You’re the mother of our child and the woman I love. Whether or not we ever marry in the traditional sense, I had hoped you would wear it. You can refuse it if you don’t want the symbolism attached; it would change nothing between us. It’s just…”

He stopped for a moment, like he was measuring his words in his head. “It’s yours if you want it, no pressure, no expectations.”

‘Not a proposal’ he said. Then why did it feel so much like one?

She watched his mother’s ring glinting in the dusk sunlight shimmering through the window. Morrigan had always firmly believed one’s knee-jerk reaction was their true feelings—as much as she said she was willing to give it some thought years ago, and even meant it, she felt no urge to accept the heirloom from him now.

Darrian cocked his head to the side. He looked neither sad nor happy.

He finally chuckled in spite of himself. “Your hesitation speaks volumes, love.”

“Darrian, I—”

He shook his head. “I told you it changes nothing, didn’t I?”

He reached over to the small bedside table behind them and placed the ring upon it. “You don’t have to decide now. Carry it in your pack for a while. If you still feel the same by the time we leave Denerim in a few days, I’ll return it to my father and nothing else will be said about the subject. Perhaps he could pass it on to Shianni.”

Morrigan pursed her lips, looking over at the piece of jewelry. It was a golden band with three amber stones embedded in it.

Strange choice of stone for what was essentially an elven wedding band, but she made no comment on that fact.

“I suppose it couldn’t hurt to think on it. But you simply must cease your sweet and understanding sensibilities—tis hard to make an informed decision when my defenses are down, after all. Perhaps bring back the selfish, miserable bastard routine.”

The Hero of Ferelden laughed loudly at that point, genuine and from his gut. “You speak as if sweet and understanding are the worse traits a man could have. But I will do my best to be a prig, if that is what you need.”

Morrigan rolled her eyes at his mirth in response to what wasn’t supposed to be a humorous statement. His deep laughter continued for a few more moments, until even she couldn’t fight the small smile that grew upon her face.

Darrian’s laughter came slower until it naturally ceased altogether. He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand before he cradled it in his warm palm.

“And if I have ever been a miserable, selfish, bastard, I thank my luck in spite of it. Had things went differently, I’d have been married to a girl I had only met the day of the ceremony, probably with at least two children by now. Perhaps we would have learned to love each other, neither of us knowing if it was true passion or just comfort and familiarity fueling it.”

“Sounds dreadfully typical and droll.” Morrigan cut in.

“Incredibly.” Darrian agreed. “Luckily, I found you. Love and passion wrapped up in a cute little package. You frustrate me, challenge me, and I would take what I have now with you over anything my betrothal could have given me a thousand times over. Since that day I met you in the Wilds, I’ve never desired anyone else. I want you and our family, whatever that looks like for us. Whatever you decide, I just want you know that.”

Morrigan’s chest felt suddenly hollow, like his words had scooped everything out. This man knew how to make her reevaluate every cynical thing she had ever believed in. In that moment she wondered why on Earth she held this one last thing from him, of all people, of all times.

But it only lasted a moment before her resolve had returned.

She pushed him back onto the bed and quickly stretched out alongside him. “Understood. Now tell me, are you still interested in what we were doing earlier after all that has transpired, or would you like to spend the rest of the eve talking?”

“I’ve always admired your talent for diverting from unwanted conversations with sex.”

Morrigan bristled. “Mayhap the cheeky Warden would rather rid himself of his frustration of the flesh with his own hand?”

“I did say admired.” He reminded her, removing the covering from around his waist and tossing it aside. “And I’m very eager to pick back up where we left off, but I’m afraid I did undo most of your hard work from earlier.”

She couldn’t help glancing down, and indeed, his erection had flagged a bit.

“Well, I am certain I can remedy that.” She purred, dainty hand enclosing around him as best she could, still a handful even half flaccid.

The battle-hardened slayer of the Archdemon buried his face in the curve of her neck and whimpered as she began to stroke with firm but long pulls.

The witch never ceased to marvel at the fact that a man as strong as Darrian could be so easily manipulated into a sensitive wreck by a few touches to his prick. Truthfully, as perverse as she claimed to be at times, he was the first man she had ever taken in hand. She often wondered offhandedly if all men were this satisfyingly responsive.

It was common knowledge that the average man enjoyed it, but did they sigh like her Warden? Did they babble endless praises into their partner’s ear, or tell them how good it felt without worry of seeming vulnerable?

She heard her name as a gasp from his lips murmured into her skin. She could feel his manhood begin to fill again as she continued to pump him slowly. Once he had acclimated to the pleasure of her touch, he managed to compose himself enough to find her lips again.

He kissed her hungrily, shifting them so they were laying on their sides, chest to chest, as he used his knee to spread her legs.

His warm hand cradled her right breast, kneading the small globe of flesh in his rough palm. She knew she was by no means well endowed in that area, nor was she the curvaceous specimen of womanhood she knew men desired, but Darrian never had any complaints.

He obviously enjoyed paying attention to her breasts the most by her estimation, but his hands and lips were no stranger to her thighs, her breasts, her backside—anywhere he could reach, really.

Darrian’s tongue slid alongside hers, the wet muscle probing and searching. He kissed her deep and slow, as if only her lips provided the very air he needed to breathe. The moment his thumb flicked across her nipple she broke their kiss with a surprised gasp.

“Has it been that long?” he wondered aloud, pulling air back into his lungs and rutting hard against her leg on a particularly spectacular pull along his shaft. “Maker knows I cold cum just like this.”

The witch’s eyes hooded and she bit her lip. “I know your body like I know my own. I could please you blindfolded.”

“Mmm. I have no doubt of that. But don’t ever put anything over your eyes, vhenan. Seeing your yellow irises watching me makes me all weak kneed.”

He gently rolled on top of her, peppering kisses along the pale ivory skin of her neck. She felt gooseflesh erupt everywhere.

Like she had done to him, she felt his fingers extend a long trek down her body, starting at her collarbone, going through the valley between her breasts, over her navel, and finally reaching its destination at the seam of her sex.

Morrigan let out a small gasp, more sensitive to the touch than she anticipated.

“Last time we made love in a castle was that night at Redcliffe.” He remarked, bracing himself on his arm above her so she wasn’t underneath his full weight.

Morrigan sighed as his long finger nudged into her folds. “T-tis true.”

“Wasn’t sure which I felt more strongly: the urge to love you til my last breath or never see you again.”

“Oh? Did my wanting to save your life make you so angry?”

Her reply was meant to be more scathing, but he had already utilized a second finger inside her. His digits crooked and nudged against her walls, her wetness beginning to coat his hand.

They didn’t speak about that night much. No matter how much time had passed, neither could understand the other and why they felt the way they felt that night.

“No, the thought of surviving without being with you seemed almost pointless. Then with the Ritual…” he paused, “I was hurt because you didn’t trust me enough to face this mysterious plan with you.”

“Trust had nothing to do with it.” She quipped. “The process would just have been simpler alone. Of course, after being apart, I found myself…”

Morrigan was cut off when Darrian’s fingers nudged the bundle of nerves inside of her that made her whole body spasm under his touch. “C-can we have this conversation another time when your hand is not knuckle deep inside me?”

His head once again found a resting place at the curve of her neck, his warm breath only egging her arousal on in tandem with his ministrations. In and out his fingers controlled her pleasure, going agonizingly slow, and she found her hips moving to get him deeper of their own accord.

Pleasure began to boil hot deep in her core.

“I just want you know you can always be honest with me.” He carried on as if she hadn’t said anything, as if his fingers crooking just right inside of her wasn’t about to be the end of her. “No matter what, all three of us will be together; I’ll make damn sure of it. That’s all I want—all I’ve ever wanted.”

The witch felt heat rise into her cheeks and her hips ground down upon his hand, beyond tired of all the talking. “And I want you inside me.”

Darrian cocked his head to the side, crooking his fingers once more for emphasis. “I already am, aren’t I?”

Morrigan pursed her lips to stifle the moan that threatened to escape and wrapped her legs around his waist. “Your miserable, selfish bastard is showing.” She looked pointedly in the direction of his bottom half. The sight was obscured but she could certainly feel his eagerness, wrapped around him as she was.

“T’is clear you want this just as badly as I do. If you are so unwilling to give it to me, I could flick my wrist and render you unable to move while I take what I want. If I was feeling especially nasty, I could numb you from the waist down so you wouldn’t even get the pleasure of me tight around your—”

He interrupted her with a brief kiss. Apparently, he was done with the teasing as well.

“Are you ready, then?”

Morrigan placed her hands upon his shoulders. “I was ready before you were even in the room.”

He removed his hands from her folds and almost lazily stroked himself, slicking his swollen length with her essence. He then positioned himself, hips canting forward to meet hers.

The breach went quickly. Big as he was, he had done a thorough job of preparing her. She sighed as he stretched her out, girth filling her up with that familiar delicious burn until he was balls deep within her.

Darrian’s head lolled forward, brow planted firmly on the mattress beside her head as his deep, rich sigh reached her ears. She reflexively clung to him, winding her arms tight around his neck as her nails bit into his shoulder blades.

His name fell from her lips like an incantation; fingers winding in the damp, wavy brown strands at the back of his head. The sound of his broken groan brought a shudder to her core, and she reflexively squeezed tight around the man inside of her.

He immediately began to move, the pleasure overcoming the platitude of waiting for her permission—not that she had the patience for such things either.

He pulled almost entirely out of her before filling her completely again with a snap of his hips.

“Y-you feel… so good.” He babbled. “How have I made it for two weeks without this?”

“T’wasn’t by choice,” she reminded him, “But I agree; let us not put ourselves through that again.”

Their joining was not as frantic as she had anticipated, given the sexual drought they had experienced. It wasn’t long before they were both swaying and clinging to one another, chasing that pleasure, that closeness.

The slick sound of their coming together and the low creaking of the wooden bedframe were the only discernable sounds in the room aside from their moans and Darrian’s occasional sex-drunk murmurings.

Neither of them was going to last long, she knew. She could feel her own completion approaching, the shuddering heat coiling within her gut.

Darrian gently removed her hands from his shoulders and pinned them beside her head. He wasn’t forceful, only interlocked their hands, grip firm but not meant to be overbearing. He used the leverage to plunge even deeper into her.

She arched her back, pressing up against him as his thrusts became faster, more desperate. His body was warm and slick with sweat as he writhed against her, but there was also his familiar scent mixed with the clean, slightly floral notes of the soap.

“M-Morrigan, I—you… I can’t—” After a few more long, deep pushes and a shaky warning spoken into her ear, Darrian came.

He spilled inside of her, his hands gripping hers for dear life as his hips stuttered erratically against her own.

Darrian continued to drive into her with shallow movements through his release, and he somehow felt even more exquisite pumping in and out of her during orgasm. He stopped altogether for a few moments, breathing heavily.

He freed one hand to help his cock coax her to orgasm, using his thumb to tease the sensitive flesh around where he entered her.

The witch followed suit soon after, the taut control shattering. Her core squeezed around the considerable girth within her, and Darrian buried his face within her hair as he became limp in her arms, lazily planting kisses all over the damp column of her neck.

“L-love you… so damn much.” Came his post coital babbling, voice winded but husky. That’s not to say he didn’t mean it; she knew he did. That had made it worse to herself five years ago when he said it the first time than the insincere prattle from the sex addled brains of the men that came before him.

For present day Morrigan, there was no point in pretending she didn’t love him in return, but the heat filled her cheeks nevertheless. She hummed her agreement, not quite as chatty as he while her body was still going through the aftershocks of her peak.

Once her breathing returned to normal, she rolled him onto his back. Darrian allowed her to do as she wished—whether he didn’t mind or was just too sluggish to resist, she wasn’t sure.

Morrigan rose off him and sighed at the deep emptiness she felt as his softened member slipped out of her. His Warden refractory period was exponentially shorter than the normal man’s—undoubtedly, he could go again soon, but she wasn’t sure either of them would be up for another bout later.

The mage immediately went for the rogue’s lips. She kissed him without hurry, the slow and sinuous movement of her tongue met with equal enthusiasm from the elf. The liplock was drawn out as long as possible, until the need for air for their already tired lungs became too great.

She settled against his chest after they finally pulled apart. The quiet made her able to feel and hear the soft but quickened thump of his heart near her cheek.

“That was quite the performance,” she purred.

“You were so good, Mori. My orgasm had an orgasm. I think my brain is leaking out of my ears.”

Morrigan chuckled, tracing his navel with her finger. “Mmm. Seems like you would be dead were that the case.”

“There are worse ways to go.” he countered softly.

She certainly couldn’t argue with that, so she didn’t.

Darrian’s hand carded through the black strands of her mussed hair, lulling her to calmness. The rise and fall of his chest was almost hypnotic in the otherwise quiet room. She felt certain she would succumb to slumber soon.

The sun was setting outside. The sorbet colored sky filtered hazy light through the window, motes dancing in the beam.

Adaia Tabris’ ring glinted dully in the fading daylight from its spot on the bedside table. Morrigan caught it out of the corner of her eye but thought no more of the piece of jewelry for the rest of the evening.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to my previous oneshot "Fate's Gambit." I hope you enjoyed. This is going to be a two part story, perhaps more, so hopefully I'll have the second part out soon. Thanks to everyone who read and enjoyed this story as well as the one before. Let me know what you liked, disliked, and what your general thoughts are. Kudos and/or advice are greatly appreciated.


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